Night at the Lake, A
Shame's teeth were clenched tight as she said, "Why, in great bloody Azeroth, did you DO that?" The gnome, who's arm Shame had a death grip on, winced. "Well, I thought it would, you know, diffuse the situation, didn't I?" She gestured wildly with her hands. "I mean, who doesn't love a succubus?" "Who doesn't love a succubus, June?! I'm going to go out on a damn limb here and say THEY don't love a succubus!" Shame jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Not too far in the distance, torches could be seen. If one focused intently on the torches, one could probably recognize them being accompanied by pitchforks, and since one was spending all that time focusing, it's possible that one would also make out that the torches and the pitchforks were coming closer, very quickly. Neither Shame nor June were focusing intently though, as they were too busy rabbiting for their lives in the other direction. However, their harried pace did nothing to stop their bickering. "Well, Shame, before ya get all high and mighty, why don't we go ahead and recall exactly WHO it was that hexed the innkeeper's daughter, hmm? Gee, who could that've been, my memory has gone all misty..." Shame had the decency to look... well... shamed. In a small voice, she said, "It was just a little hex. I didn't think anyone would notice." "Not notice?! Shame, the girl was vomiting blood!" Shame shrugged a little, "Maybe she had allergies..." June balked for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how much pain she exact upon her best friend. When finally she came up with a perfectly scathing reply, there was a sudden and excruciating pain in the back of her head. She stopped, stunned, "Did one of those sonsabitches just throw a rock at me?" Shame looked down at her exasperated, "Well, what did you think they were chasing us down for? Inviting us in for a cup of tea?" Shame looked back and realized that the torchbearers were right on top of them. "Ah, hell," she said with a sigh before chucking the gnome as far as she could and diving after her. Both landed with a splash. For over an hour, they stayed at the bottom of the lake, waiting for the townspeople to assume they were dead or gone. Both had their arms crossed over their chests petulantly, staring out into the murky depths, rather than looking at each other. "Shame?" June asked finally. "Yes, June." There was a brief silence, "Were we just chased out of town by people with pitchforks, Shame?" "Yes, I believe we were, June." Another pause, this one stretching out indeterminably, "My mother warned me about becoming a cliche..." I couldn't tell you who started giggling first, but pretty soon, both of them were rolling around the bottom of the lake laughing until their sides were fit to burst. "C'mon," Shame said, absently wiping a tear from her eye. "Let's go. My fingers and toes are way past pruney." "Aye, I could use a warm fire and a stiff drink." And together they swam out of the lake and headed home.